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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381481">Magnificat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow'>entanglednow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Priests, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Blasphemy, Breaking Celibacy Vows, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Inexperience</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:40:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Aziraphale has the smile of an angel, and Crowley has already fallen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Clerical Omens, Good Omens Human AUs, Good ones, Ineffable Humans AU</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Magnificat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was inspired by a sketch on discord, by the very talented Sidetrek. I couldn't help myself. And thank you to Chamyl, for helping me out with this and giving it a title!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The church is so quiet when Crowley presses open the doors that for a moment he stands in the fading light confused. Aziraphale had asked him to come, and he'd hurried, he'd barely stopped to pull his shoes on.</p>
<p>But the church feels empty.</p>
<p>He knows what he'd wanted the reason to be, what he'd hoped for, and he'd known exactly how that would end too. Maybe it's for the best, this whole thing started because of him. He's the one who couldn't keep quiet, who couldn't resist, couldn't stop himself from reaching out - and falling. It's a selfish want, Aziraphale deserves so much better than this, but it's not too late to stop this, it's not too late for him.</p>
<p>The door of the sacristy creaks open and the sleeve of Crowley's cassock is bunched in a strong, familiar hand as he's tugged into the side room.</p>
<p>"Aziraphale." All thoughts of blame and fault and doubt crash against the wall that is his perfect blasphemous adoration of the man standing in front of him. Dressed as neatly and untouchably as always. Dressed the same as him, an accusation in black and white.</p>
<p>"You came." Aziraphale sounds surprised, though there's a smile, and the slow stretch of it looks relieved.</p>
<p>"Of course," Crowley says, because what else was he going to do? "Of course I came, of course I did. You said you needed to talk - that you needed my help."</p>
<p>Aziraphale gives a breathless laugh. "Is that what I said? I said a lot of things in my head and I couldn't quite remember what I finally had the courage to voice."</p>
<p>"Aziraphale -"</p>
<p>"I've thought of nothing but you since I met you," Aziraphale says quickly, as if he can't bear not to get the words out. "You've supported me and comforted me, encouraged me when I needed it, and never once asked a single thing in return." The 'even when you could have done' isn't spoken, but Crowley knows it's there.</p>
<p>"We don't - we don't ask for things in return, Aziraphale." They don't ask. They don't get to ask.</p>
<p>"You know what I mean," Aziraphale says, the words quiet and desperate, as if he's afraid to be left alone in this. Afraid to be left behind when Crowley leaves. But it wasn't a threat, it wasn't meant to hurt him. Crowley has been trying - he's been trying to protect him.</p>
<p>"I know," he admits, and it's confession enough to hurt them both, just acknowledging it out loud, especially here. "Aziraphale, we both know where this ends. We both know what happens if we let...if we let ourselves want this. If we give in to -" he makes himself say it. "To our desires."</p>
<p>Aziraphale surprises him by giving a low, thready laugh. "Oh, desiring you would be easy, simple lust would be something I could understand, something I could fight. But it's not just that, is it?"</p>
<p>Crowley lifts a hand, presses his cold fingers over that soft mouth, stops him talking. "Aziraphale, don't." He can feel the plush, damp shape of his lips and it was a mistake to touch him, a mistake to reach out and make this real.</p>
<p>Aziraphale's fingers circle his wrist, press into the bone and tendons and pull it free.</p>
<p>"I have never been in love before," he admits, over the top of Crowley's fingers.</p>
<p>Crowley hisses him quiet. "Don't say that."</p>
<p>"Let me finish, please let me finish." Aziraphale sounds so wounded and so desperate that Crowley bites down on his instinctive protest. There's a gentle squeeze of his hand, before the grasp softens into something dangerously intimate, fingers almost threading. Aziraphale's hands are strong and smooth, so much warmer than his own.</p>
<p>"The thought of never seeing you again, of you being sent away, or choosing to leave, of never hearing your voice again - the thought of never telling you that I love you. Telling you that I find myself overwhelmed with it constantly."</p>
<p>"You can't do this," Crowley tells him, hurrying the words out because this is the only home Aziraphale has ever known, and it would kill him to be forced out. "You can't say any of this, you have to stay, you need to <i>stay</i>." He can't help it, he lets a curse hiss out. "For fuck's sake, Aziraphale, you've never wanted anything else but to be a priest."</p>
<p>"It's true, I didn't." Aziraphale nods agreement. "I didn't until I met you, until now, and I don't regret a single agonising, terrifying moment of it."</p>
<p>Crowley hits the wall with a gentle thud when Aziraphale presses in close, lifts shaking hands to hold his face, the solid warmth of them so shocking and so unexpected. Before his mouth presses down over Crowley's with a sigh of such heartbreaking surrender.</p>
<p>They shouldn't be kissing, they shouldn't be this, they'll be separated and transferred if anyone even suspects they have feelings for each other. Let alone the idea that they might act on them. For a second Crowley resists the gentle, tentative pressure, as Aziraphale asks him to be a part of this. But then his own hands fold against the side of Aziraphale's face, sliding up until his fingers push into his impossibly soft white hair. He feels him for the first time and he's lost.</p>
<p>Crowley should be strong enough to pull away. He shouldn't let Aziraphale throw all of this away for him. He's not worth this, this man is an angel and he deserves so much better than him. The last seven years have been the only time in his life Crowley hasn't been a disappointment, the only time he hasn't been pulled into trouble, or dragged someone else neck deep into it with him. Which leaves a sharpness to this beautiful moment that feels like guilt.</p>
<p>But how is he supposed to say no? He's never been able to resist anything Aziraphale wanted. Especially not when he wants it just as much.</p>
<p>He opens to him.</p>
<p>He kisses him back.</p>
<p>They are breaking every vow they'd made. This is madness. But Aziraphale's kisses are not slowing, it's like a dam has broken inside him, revealing some desperate, untouched thing he's never had cause to pull into the light. His need feels raw and naked and new, and Crowley is helpless to do anything but cup it in his hands and ground it with his own desire.</p>
<p>"Crowley." It's breathed into his mouth and his name has never sounded like that before. "Please, please tell me you feel the same -"</p>
<p>"I do," he chokes out, because he can't lie to him, he never could. "Of course I do." He expects the admission, painful as it is, to soothe him, to let him take a second to breathe. But instead Aziraphale drops both hands to grip his waist. If anything the tremble to his body is fiercer.</p>
<p>"Can I touch you? Will you let me? Please tell me if you don't - if you can't."</p>
<p>"Yes, touch me, please." Dear God, just the thought of it, of Aziraphale's hands on his skin, sliding through the unbuttoned front of his cassock to shove his shirt aside and touch him. To tangle those warm fingers through the chain of his crucifix, and the gentle blasphemy of it steals all the breath from him -</p>
<p>But that's not the way Aziraphale chooses to go, instead his large hands bunch the skirt of his cassock and drag it upwards.</p>
<p>Crowley's head tips back, knocking their mouths apart, but Aziraphale just transfers his attention to the long, sensitive line of his throat. He's not prepared for this, for Aziraphale to fall this way. Crowley hadn't - he hadn't bothered to properly dress, Aziraphale had sounded so shaken when he'd called - he's naked, he's naked underneath it, and he knows the exact moment Aziraphale realises it.</p>
<p>"Crowley."</p>
<p>"Wasn't supposed to meet anyone this evening, but you sounded so desperate, you sounded so lost -" The cassock is dragged past his waist, exposing his balls, and the gentle half-rise of his cock, the shock red of his pubic hair, and he makes a startled, hungry sound of embarrassed, urgent desire. "Aziraphale."</p>
<p>His angelic looking friend seems to be finding it hard to draw a breath.</p>
<p>"How can you be so beautiful?" he whispers eventually, voice hoarse as if he wants to sob it. As if it's a secret kept from him, a wound he didn't know he'd taken. He holds Crowley to the wall while he looks at him, strong hands bunched in black cloth, before he's pressing back in, the rasp of his own clothing against Crowley's nakedness.</p>
<p>"Aziraphale -"</p>
<p>One of his long legs is dragged upwards, hooked at Aziraphale's waist, the flat of his hand sliding from Crowley's naked hip to the bare curve of his buttock. It's slow, scandalous and absolutely forbidden. He can hear the way Aziraphale's breath rushes out of him, overwhelmed at his own daring. He knows that nothing about this is familiar for the other. He's been with the church his whole life, he's never felt anyone else, he's never been intimate with anyone else.</p>
<p>There's a quiet devastation to his expression - to his need - and it hurts Crowley all the way through. He draws Aziraphale in, slides his arms about him just to feel the width of him, the warmth of him, the strength that he does not deserve laid at his feet.</p>
<p>But they can still stop - God help him, they can still stop.</p>
<p>"It's always overwhelming the first time, everything is new, it's perfectly normal to feel like this." Crowley lifts his hands, cups his angel's face. "But you still make the decisions, you can still choose to stop this. You don't have to make this mistake."</p>
<p>"Stop protecting me, Crowley," Aziraphale whispers. "Please, please stop protecting me." It's breathless and desperate, the hand that had been gripping his thigh has gentled. The fingers have dipped beneath cloth, stroking the line of his hip, but not daring to move inwards, not daring to touch him more than that. "And you could never be a mistake, not ever."</p>
<p>Crowley has spent so long trying to stop them both from falling.</p>
<p>He missed the moment they both hit the ground.</p>
<p>They're kissing, really kissing, opening to each other like they'll never have the chance again. Crowley clings to him, with arms and hands, and the long line of his leg, while Aziraphale strokes his face and says his name, one shaky breath after another. The warmth of Aziraphale's mouth, the sweet, shy press of his tongue. It's everything.</p>
<p>"I don't want to say we never did," Aziraphale says, between kisses. "I've never made love before. I've never wanted to with anyone else."</p>
<p>The thought of it has Crowley's insides jerking in sharp, sudden hunger. He's fully hard where he presses against Aziraphale's solid hip, and he can't feel any shame for it. He loves this man so much it hurts, and every part of him is his. God forgive him - every part of him belongs to Aziraphale.</p>
<p>"Aziraphale, this isn't the place to - to - you've never even kissed anyone before."</p>
<p>Aziraphale's hand curves around his face again, thumb stroking the hollow of his cheek, it's warm and far too tender.</p>
<p>"God has already seen everything in me, I have no secrets from Him."</p>
<p>"There's a difference between letting Him know and -" The words are gone when Aziraphale's fingers drop to press into his chest, the shape of a crucifix suddenly hard against his skin.</p>
<p>"Do you want me?" Aziraphale asks. His expression is so hopeful and so afraid that Crowley can do nothing but swallow through the thickness of his throat and nod, of course he does, <i>of course</i>.</p>
<p>Aziraphale kisses the corner of his mouth, the dog collar he wears so bright suddenly. Stupid, this is stupid, Aziraphale will be left with nothing.</p>
<p>"I want to touch you, I want to feel you against me."</p>
<p>"Aziraphale -" Crowley can't breathe.</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s hands are moving, clumsy and tentative as they slide back and forth on his bare thighs.</p>
<p>"Can I put my hand on you?"</p>
<p>"Yes, yes, of course -" It's too honest, too selfish. Is this a temptation? Is this his fault? Is he the one to blame with his looks and his smiles and his blatant fucking adoration?</p>
<p>Aziraphale breathes a sigh, a grateful and excited flare of warmth across his throat. His hand curves around Crowley's thigh and then slides upwards, before carefully lifting to touch the sway of his erection, fingers curling gently around it. And, oh, the hot throb of it is a shame and a torment, but it's also an exquisite pleasure. Crowley's own hands are moving, drawing black fabric up - and of course Aziraphale is wearing plain, simple trousers underneath that he has to fumble with. His useless fingers are so desperate to touch that when they finally slip past Aziraphale's open waistband and find the hot, vulnerable thrust of him, he's the one moaning like he's been gutted, while Aziraphale just makes soft noises of surprised pleasure.</p>
<p>"Oh, would you let me slip into your bed, let me curl around you and call us lovers?"</p>
<p>Aziraphale has no idea what he's doing to him, he can't possibly, that low familiar voice asking him if he wants the things he's yearned for - that he's resisted even thinking about so he doesn't do something stupid - say something stupid. All while he touches him with those strong, gentle hands.</p>
<p>"You know that I would." Crowley stops resisting, he gives in, touches him like a lover, he pulls Aziraphale into him and threads the long fingers of his free hand in his pale curls of hair, kisses him as reverently as he's ever done anything. While he works his stiff flesh, thumb sliding sweet and urgent across the sensitive head of his cock.</p>
<p>Aziraphale's words are breaking, thinner with every breath as he tries to copy Crowley's movements with clumsy eagerness.</p>
<p>"Would you take me home and make love to me?" he pleads, as though it's something he's wanted, something he's dreamed about.</p>
<p>Oh God. </p>
<p>"Aziraphale, you know I would." Of course he would, he'd take him anywhere he wanted to go. Crowley pictures it, he can't help it. He pictures the spread of Aziraphale's soft, naked body on his dark sheets. Crowley slipped between his generous hiked-up thighs, or curved against the plush curve of his arse, hands firm on the other's skin as he moved against him - and into him - spearing him open in the most intimate of ways. One of his long hands working Aziraphale's dick the other touching him, touching every part of him.</p>
<p>He pictures the angel stretched open and flushed with pleasure, moaning through the guilty press of his own fingers, while Crowley worshipped him with his mouth, in all the ways Aziraphale had never experienced before. To have him under him, or over him, splashes of his desire on Crowley's skin. Stripped of everything - everything but their crucifixes and their love.</p>
<p>Crowley hisses out a breath, gives in to the reality of what they're doing, he lifts his hand, wets it with his mouth, to Aziraphale's trembled 'oh' before sliding it back down to grasp them both, twining his fingers with Aziraphale's. He works them together, the soft-hard thrust of them both between his stretched fingers a beautiful, blasphemous delight. His grip tightens when Aziraphale gives a low, broken moan, hips working him through Crowley's tight grip. All it takes is the way Aziraphale says his name, needy and worshipful and everything they're not allowed. He's coming in pulses against the black of Aziraphale's pushed-up cassock, over both their fingers, and the thick thrust of Aziraphale's own cock.</p>
<p>The pleasure of it shakes out of him in moans and quiet catches of breath. Aziraphale presses in so close, still kissing him, hand still working where Crowley is slick and sensitive. But it's barely long enough to have him whining Aziraphale's name, before that solid cock twitches against his own, and the streaks of come that cover his own disarranged clothes in messy lines feel like a confession, like a sin he never wants absolution for.</p>
<p>He expects the cooling semen to bring Aziraphale feelings of shame and disgrace, regret at least. But when he kisses Crowley after the end it's still warm and slow, the hands in his hair still gentle. Crowley lets his leg slide down, adjusts their cassocks to cover their - it doesn't seem enough to call it an indiscretion. Aziraphale's cheeks are flushed pink, and his smile is wide and soft.</p>
<p>"Take me home with you," he says quietly. It doesn't sound like a question, or as if he's giving in to something Crowley has tempted him into, it doesn't feel like a ruin, or doubt, or a change that Crowley has been terrified of since they'd brushed hands in the vestry, after the funeral. When they'd seen each other and both had an undeniable moment of 'oh, there you are.'</p>
<p>Aziraphale says 'take me home' as if that's where he belongs, where he's always belonged.</p>
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